User blog:High Prince Imrahil/The Death of Travian Sackett
The other day I was looking through some old blog posts, and rediscovered a story Travian had written a while back. You might remember it. It involved the heroic sacrifice of Travian Sackett, who gave his life to help Imrahil escape an Umbarian assault. Now I've never thought about it before, really. I've just always envisioned Travian and Imrahil dying side-by-side in battle, in some heroic last stand on the burning sands of Harad or the rolling plains of distant Rhun. Travian dying first... well, it's intriguing to say the least. How would Imrahil react? After all, this is not only Imrahil's friend, but his most trusted general and seneschal. I'm not sure Imrahil could even function on a day-to-day basis without his faithful squire. So, since I was feeling in a dark mood today, I present to you: The Death of Travian Sackett. ------ It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It wasn't. They were Imrahil and Travian, heroes of the War of the Ring, the greatest warriors in all Gondor. They had survived the wrath of Sauron himself. But they were still mortal. He was still mortal. Travian Sackett lay sprawled on the ground beside his horse, his tunic soaked in crimson, the muscles and tendons of his left shoulder exposed by the deep gash. His sword was still in his hand, his shield half-raised in a protective stance. He hadn't been protecting himself. He had protecting'' Imrahil.'' Again. Damn his heroics. Travian had made a bad habit out of that. Imrahil reminded him time and time again that the line of Alquas was no more important then the line of Sacketts, that there was no difference between liege in squire. But every time, with a shout of "Gondor needs its prince!" Travian would step in front of him to take whatever danger there was. Twice he had taken arrows for Imrahil, but both times he had recovered. But this... This was different. Crimson swirled Imrahil's vision, as he could only replay the memory of what happened. The Castamir Master Ranger that had come out of nowhere, and nearly killed him. But Travian had stepped in the way, blocking the sword with... well, himself. So much blood Imrahil wished he could do something, that he could do anything. But he just stood there in total horror, as the sound of tearing flesh filled the air. In slow motion, Travian fell to the dusty ground. The Swan Guards arrived and several of them were dueling the ranger, but Imrahil didn't care. It was too late. Imrahil swung down from his horse, and kneeled at Travian's side. There was blood. So much blood. All he could see was crimson. The squire drew in a ragged breath, and began coughing up more of the metallic liquid. Then, looking up at Imrahil, he grinned!" "Looks like I... I got the... last laugh after all..." he said, through pained breathing. No. This couldn't happen. This wasn't happening. "Travian..." choked Imrahil, bordering on hysterical, "You... you can't do this to me, Travian! I need you to live. Do you understand me?? That's an order!" "Well, sir, I'm afraid I might have to be insubordinate." Travian replied with a pained grin. Imrahil sighed, trying not to look at his squire's arm, the wrist almost severed. So much blood. "Travian..." he said quietly, "Travian, you have lost your left hand, but I have lost my right. You know.... you know, if I had the option, I would have rather been disabled in your stead." The squire's breaths were becoming short and shallow now. The end was near. "I... I know, sir. Which is why I never asked." Travian motioned with his good hand and patted the spot beside him. Slowly, carefully, Imrahil sat down next to his squire one last time. "... Imrahil?" said Travian, after a moment of silence. "... we've... we've been through a lot of adventures over the years. I... I just want you to know... you were a damn fine man to serve under." "Travian... out of all the squires of all the Princes of Dol Amroth, and all the Kings of Numenor, your name stands alone." Travian began coughing again, this time harder. It was clear he only had a few moments. With his good arm, he made a fist with his hand and brought it to his chest, the royal salute of Dol Amroth. Imrahil, barely choking back sobs, mirrored the gesture. "Good bye, sir." He wasn't ready to hear that yet. It was all too soon, it had all happened so fast... but as Travian looked up expectantly, he somehow found the strength to return the words. "Good bye, Trav." The squire gave a contented smile as his ragged breaths finally subsided. Travian's eyes closed for the last time as his body relaxed. All was silent. Imrahil was not an emotional man, but sitting there beside his friend, he sobbed without restraint. "Travian," he choked out to an unhearing squire, "Damn your heroics." Category:Blog posts